Today Your Barista Is
by Imaperson1995
Summary: Inspired by a photo I saw on tumblr. Coffee Shop AU: All Blaine wants is to ask his favorite customer out.
1. Today Your Barista Is (Part I)

**So, I was scrolling through my dash and I saw an awesome picture that made me want to write this. It's my first glee/klaine fanfic, so hopefully it isn't entirely terrible. I'll post the rest hopefully tomorrow...along with the picture that inspired this.**

**DISCLAIMER: _Let's see...I don't own Glee...I don't own the Lima Bean...I don't own Blaine...I don't own Kurt...I don't own the picture that inspired this...and now I'm just gonna go look for my life...I seem to have misplaced it._**

* * *

**Today Your Barista Is…**

The day started out normal enough. Blaine woke up at his usual time, took his morning shower and got dressed before heading to work. When his manager wasn't looking, he snuck a few fresh-baked cookies into the paper bag that he keeps under the counter.

His co-worker, Marie, laughed at his ninja-like antics but—like always—would turn a blind eye to his scavenging.

After two hours of working the counter, Blaine removed his apron and prepared his own on-the-house employee discounted drink. He kept a straight face as he passed his manager—his full paper bag casually swinging by his side. He could feel his manager's suspicious look burning into the back of his head, and could hear Marie struggle to keep in a laugh—but, like always he was free to go on his break.

Of course, Blaine didn't have anywhere else to go, so he took a seat at the corner of the little shop and carefully sipped his steaming coffee while observing the customers seated throughout the building. He spotted one of their regulars—the weird guy with a half-shaved head and the mermaid tattoo, and a group of teenage girls giggling at whatever was on the laptop in front of them.

He kept an eye on the pedestrians passing by the window, knowing that as soon as he saw any sign of his favorite customer he would race to the counter and resume working.

The minutes passed and Blaine checked his phone casually. He could feel the knowing smirk Marie was throwing him from the counter, but chose to ignore it by pretending to be interested in a text he was pretending to have received.

It was ten minutes past the time that his regular came into the shop, and Blaine was just about ready to give up and clock out for the rest of the day when he heard a small cough from behind.

He tried to hide the absolute relief and joy his was feeling, but knew that the smile on his face was too wide to be casual.

There he was, in all his snow-nymph beauty. Snow boots, tight leggings, and a coat so large the sleeves were rolled over four times. He was wearing a knitted cap that covered most of his hair—which Blaine realized was probably why he didn't see him walk in—and his pale face flushed from the cold. The 11 o'clock regular, Kurt Hummel.

"Mind if I join you?" Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine could feel his insides melting as Kurt's timid voice reached his ears. He sounded hoarse, and Blaine resisted the urge to 'awww' as he realized that Kurt was sniffling.

Blaine stood to pull out a chair for him and tried to keep Kurt's focus on the chivalrous gesture and _not _on Marie giving him two suggestive thumbs up. Kurt smiled at him as he pulled out what Blaine assumed was school work.

"It's funny," Kurt stated, his voice strained, "I've never actually seen you on break before—I started to think you were some kind of robot that never slept, or something."

Blaine laughed as Kurt took a sip of his coffee—a Grande Non-fat mocha, Blaine remembered—and shivered dramatically, making a face at the cup.

"You know what; maybe it's a good thing I always get here on your shift. This thing tastes like crap. I guess it's just lacking the magic touch, right?"

Blaine rolls his eyes and takes the cup from Kurt's hand. He heads over to the counter and sprinkles some cinnamon and just a bit of chocolate into the drink. While he stirs, he tries to form a decent sentence in his mind. The best he can come up with is: _"gah…like…pants…cute…you…uhhhh…"_

He takes a deep breath and heads back to his table, hands Kurt his drink, and tries not to look too cocky while Kurt teasingly gives the mocha a taste test.

Blaine watches as Kurt sets the drink down and waits for the verdict.

"Now _that_ was definitely worth the freezing trip here." He sniffles again, and coughs into his arm. "Seriously, Blaine. What is your secret?"

"You're sick." Blaine replies smartly.

Kurt lets out a small laugh that soon turns into a coughing fit. "What was your first clue?"

Blaine scoffs jokingly and hands Kurt a cookie. He decides to try talking again.

"You're wearing a hat."

Kurt groans and lays his head on the table miserably. Blaine smiles at the adorableness of it all. Even when he was sick, Kurt managed to pull off the diva act.

"My dad wouldn't let me leave the house without it. I know wanted me to just stay in bed, but _nothing_ will stop me from getting my non-fat mocha—" Another coughing fit, "Besides, with the magic you put in here I'm sure I'll be better in no time."

Blaine could feel his face warm up as he rolled his eyes. "I told you, there is no magic. It's just sugar, cinnamon, and chocolate."

"I'm not stupid, Blaine." Kurt smiles and takes another, unnecessarily long sip of his mocha.

Blaine stays quiet, because he knows Kurt is just going for a dramatic pause before—

"A magician _never _reveals his secrets."

"_Ohmygosh…"_ Blaine laughs, covering his quickly reddening face.

He peeks at Kurt through his fingers, admiring the way his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches up as he smiles at his own corny joke.

When Kurt notices Blaine staring, Blaine hides behind his hands again and tries to form the question he'd wanted to ask since the first time Kurt had walked into the Lima Bean six months prior.

He clears his throat. "So…Kurt. I, ummm…I was wondering…if maybe you—"

"Excuse me,"

Blaine feels a light tapping on his shoulder and turns to face whoever it was that had interrupted him.

It was one of the girls he had seen earlier.

She was smiling shyly at him and Blaine had to try really hard not to sound annoyed.

"Can I help you with something?"

The girl's friends giggled behind her, and Blaine started to get the feeling that they probably hadn't been watching a video earlier at all. They had been watching him.

His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the folded piece of paper she was twisting anxiously in her hands.

_Oh no,_ he thought.

"I just…um…wanted to give you this." She handed him the slip of paper. "And, um, just…you know. Call me. Anytime."

She turned quickly and ran back to her friends before they all gathered their stuff and stampeded out of the shop—a terrifying mob of blushing, giggling estrogen.

Blaine turned his attention back to Kurt, and saw that he had already packed up his things.

"I have to go," Kurt said quietly, "My dad won't want me out for too long in this weather."

Blaine—all courage gone when that girl had interrupted him—watched him go.

Kurt didn't show up the rest of the week.

Blaine assumed that it was because he was too sick to go out. That was, until one day—while covering a shift for Marie, Blaine saw Kurt glance through the window, see him at the counter, and continue past the Lima Bean with his head down.

Blaine didn't know what to think, but he figured that if Kurt had passed by the shop when he thought Marie was working, that Marie might know something.

He confronted her the next morning while they were opening up.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Blaine." She told him awkwardly.

"Come on Marie," he whined, "It can't be that bad—"

"He thinks you're straight."


	2. Today Your Barista Is (Part II)

**A/N: Sorry for the horribly long wait. I miscalculated the amount of free time I had. Somehow, I had forgotten about final's week...but I'm out of school now...yay.**

**Warnings: Just letting y'all know that there are a few swear words in this part...so...**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything.**

* * *

"I'm sorry…what?" Blaine laughs. He winces at how hysterical he sounds. "You're joking. You have to be joking, right?"

The look on Marie's face tells him she's not.

"But…how? Did he tell you that?"

Marie shrugs and continues restocking the sugar packets. "Well…not in so many words…"

"In what words, exactly? What did he say?" Blaine pleaded, giving Marie the best puppy dog look he could muster.

She sighed at the look and gestured to a table for them to sit at. "He told me—and let me just say, I went through a lot to get this out of him, you're welcome—that he doesn't think he's your _type._"

Blaine stared at her blankly. "That's it? That doesn't mean he thinks I'm straight!"

"Yeah, well, you didn't see his face. He looked like a kicked puppy," Marie stated sadly.

Blaine ran his hands through his hair nervously and groaned. "What am I going to do? I was _this close_ to asking him out!"

Marie gave him a skeptical look, which—much like he's been doing lately—Blaine chose to ignore.

He glanced at the wall clock behind Marie and got an idea.

"Hey, Marie…what time are you working tomorrow?"

* * *

They spent the rest of the day in planning mode—figuring out time schedules and trying out each and every possible scenario. They ended up with a fool-proof plan, and—in case the plan failed—about thirteen back-up plans.

Blaine went to bed that night giving himself a mental pep talk. He knew he what he wanted to do. It would involve a lot of courage on his part, but he decided Kurt was worth it.

Ignoring the nagging voice of reason in the back of his mind, Blaine tucked his bag under his bed, making sure the small menu board was hidden from sight.

* * *

The next day, Blaine woke up early and went through his usual morning routine. He arrived at the Lima Bean just as Marie was opening—two hours earlier than they had planned.

Marie rolled her eyes at his obvious excitement.

They made their way to the counter and as Marie began to set the shop up for the day, Blaine began to think about what it was he planned to do.

The day could go one of two ways:

Either Kurt would appreciate the gesture; agree to go out with him; marry him after four years of going steady; have beautiful, angelic, bursting-at-the-seams-with-talent babies…

Or he would reject Blaine. In which case Blaine will quit his job and move to Antarctica.

"Stop that." Marie's voice sounded from behind the counter, "Your psyching yourself out. I can see it on your face."

Blaine cleared his throat awkwardly. "Am I that easy to read?"

Marie tossed him a dishrag. "Definitely. Now get cleaning, it'll help you relax."

* * *

Five hours passed and Blaine was getting tired of hiding behind the counter.

The plan was for Blaine to hide out until Kurt showed up. Then, Marie would move the line to the second register and give Blaine time to set everything up. They talked to two of their other co-workers—who were now seated incognito on opposite sides of the door—and their job was to line up at Blaine's register, blocking him from Kurt's view. Kurt would see the smaller line and head there, and by the time he noticed Blaine at the register…well, Blaine was hoping his brilliant plan would work its magic by that point.

By five o'clock, Blaine had already tied, untied, and retied Marie's shoes too many times to count. He also counted the number of paper bags he had stashed there—ten—and made a mental note to go out and buy more. He was just beginning to nod off when Marie gave him a small kick.

He jumped and glared up at her, but she had already begun to usher the line to the next register.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the sign he had made the night before. Marie had laughed at him for it, but he was convinced it would work. He knew Kurt—they'd been friends for six months now. This would surely get at least a smile out of him.

It would also, Blaine was convinced, send the right message out to Kurt. Marie had told him how oblivious he could be, so here he was—putting himself out there for the sake of love.

He placed the sign in front of the small menu that displayed the day's special, smiling as his co-workers smirked. He took a deep breath and gave a small nod to them, and they moved out of the way to reveal a tired looking Kurt.

Blaine watched as Kurt's expression went from surprise to uncomfortable. He shifted from foot to foot and Blaine figured he should make some kind of move. He stretched his arms out, not so subtly drawing attention to the sign next to him.

Kurt's eyes went to the sign and Blaine let out a nervous chuckle as Kurt read the sign, his eyes widening with every word:

**Today Your Barista Is:**

**1. Hella fucking gay.**

**2. Desperately single**

**For Your Drink Today I Recommend:**

** You give me your number.**

He looked at Kurt hopefully, pleading with his eyes for Kurt to know that he was being serious. Kurt raised an eyebrow at him, and walked up to the counter casually.

Blaine held his breath as Kurt opened his mouth to speak.

This was it…the moment of truth—

"'Hella'? Really Blaine?" The edge of Kurt's mouth tilted up mischievously.

Blaine grinned. "I try."

"You fail." Kurt deadpanned. The smile stretched across his face the way Blaine always found adorable: eyes squinted a bit, nose scrunched up, tongue pushed up against a wall of perfect white teeth.

Blaine put a hand to his heart and staggered back as if he'd been shot. "That hurts, Hummel."

Kurt shrugged at him, "I try."

Blaine laughed, ignoring the strange looks being sent his way. "So…about that number…"

Kurt leaned over the counter and Blaine had to hold his breath as he realized just how close their faces were.

_If he leaned in just a few inches more—_

"How about you make me one of those magic mocha's of yours, then we'll talk."

He sent Blaine a smirk—_cocky bastard—_and made his way to his usual table.

Blaine watched him sit, and as he prepared Kurt's order, corrected himself: _Their table._

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**__****A/N: I don't know why, but I really enjoy writing Klaine banter. It's so sarcastic and fun.**


End file.
